


milk and amber

by baybetime



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 17:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18664831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baybetime/pseuds/baybetime
Summary: this is just a one-shot. nothing more. just guys being dudes. i imagine it takes place in the 80's and the sun is bright. i wrote it to cheer up my grumpy jusband





	milk and amber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [manfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manfish/gifts).



   Gilbert didn't think the water would have felt so cold if Francis didn't complain about it like he did. For the most part, cold was only truly unpleasant if you sat there and worried about how cold it was - at least, that's what many-a long German winter had taught him.

  But now it was summer, and Francis had invited him to stay at some fancy rented-out lake house in Rome of all places, and the water was a bit cold. The rocky terrain surrounding the water was not cold, which Antonio had helpfully pointed out more than enough times.

   Gilbert stood wet on the hot black rocks with his arms stretched out in lingering invitation. “It’s really not so bad,” he said, for perhaps the fifth time.

   Francis curled up on his fluffy beach towel like an irritable cat. “It really is.”

   Antonio, who was bare on the rocks save for his swim trunks, didn't say anything. He had sunglasses on, and Gilbert suspected that he might be sleeping.

   His arms stayed stretched out. “Come on,” he insisted, and shifted his feet, which were beginning to hurt from the heat of the rocks. He looked at Francis, but Francis was not looking at him. His eyes were focused on something just above Gilbert’s shoulder, so Gilbert slowly dropped his arms and turned around.

   They had been staying at the lake house for a week, and had never really seen anyone else outside, on the shore or in the water. Gilbert had long stopped wondering why none of those rich Italians never left their summer homes, and started taking the privacy for granted.

   But now, following Francis’ gaze, he saw two figures, perhaps 15 yards away, scaling from one boulder, down to another. Boys. Their bare skin shone somewhere between milk and amber in the late morning sun.

   Francis murmured something in a language Gilbert did not understand. “Huh?” He said, watching the boys land triumphantly on the boulder.

   “I said, that's new.” Francis patted Antonio’s arm. “Darling, wake up. We’ve company.”

   Antonio made a sound like Gilbert’s grandfather used to when he got up from his armchair. “Hu- _rmm,_ ” he said, sunglasses askew on his tanned face.

   “Darling,” repeated Francis, pointing.

   Antonio squinted. “Oh.”

   “Ah, they’re looking over here. Wave,” Francis said, waving. Gilbert raised his arm a bit and then put it back down. Antonio didn't move, not even to adjust his sunglasses.

   The figure that was perhaps a bit taller waved back, said something to his friend, and began scaling down the boulder. The shorter figure stayed where he was for a moment, then reluctantly followed.

   “They’re coming over here.” Francis rearranged his legs on the towel.

   As the boys approached, Gilbert became very aware that he’d had the same bathing suit since high school, and also that there was an awful peeling sunburn across his nose and shoulders that Francis had been rubbing Aloe Vera on for the past four nights or so. He really wished Antonio would fix his sunglasses.

    The boys stopped a few feet away, and the taller one spoke, “Hiya!”

    “Good day,” said Francis languidly, and Gilbert wanted to tell him to not be so goddamn pretentious for once in his life. The boys looked like ancient Greek statues of young gods. The taller one had bright eyes and a sweet mouth and long limbs and Gilbert had to tear his eyes away from the curve and firmness of his legs, which were covered in soft red hair. The man who must have been his brother - for he had the same bright eyes and sweet mouth, curled into a little pout - did not appear so friendly.

   “Lovely day, innit?” Taller asked. His Italian was smooth, tumbling, and very casual. Gilbert was scared to open his mouth. He was especially awful with romance languages.

  “Oh, yes,” said Francis. “It’s good to see we’re not the only ones enjoying it.”

   Shorter looked uncomfortable in the way people sometimes did when Francis said things like _oh, yes_ in his own patently-Francis way, and Gilbert felt a little bit sorry for him. Taller, however, appeared thoroughly charmed. He reached back and patted Shorter’s shoulder roughly, in what looked like a poorly-concealed attempt to draw him forward. Shorter was now looking hard at Antonio, who still had those damn glasses wrong on his face and was looking right back in the same heated way. Gilbert briefly wondered if he was dreaming, and then Taller said: “We just got here, yeah, but we couldn't wait to get in the water.” Then he looked at Gilbert, and addressed him directly with those bright eyes, and Gilbert felt his heart fall through the soles of his feet. “How is it?”

   It took him a long moment to process the Italian, and when he spoke, it came out jumbled and entirely too accented. “Wh- _bh?_ ” he said, and then, “Oh, um, yes. A bit, _err_ , a bit cold.”

   Taller smiled at him. Gilbert felt his ears become warm so he looked away. Shorter was no longer staring at Antonio, but Antonio was still transfixed. He looked like he had struck gold.

   Francis, who was never bothered with the altercations of Italian or eye contact, smiled a funny little smile at Taller and Shorter in turn. “Well, we wouldn't want to hold you two up.” He gestured innocuously at the wide, blue lake as though he hadn't been snarling at it a few minutes earlier.

   Taller smiled. “Thanks. Pleasure meeting you, uh…”

   “Francis Bonnefoi,” said Francis, emphasizing the _fwah_ sound in a way that Gilbert usually rolled his eyes at - now, though, he was too worried that Taller would look at him again. “This is Antonio, and Gilbert. We’re in 4295.”

   “Feliciano,” Taller nodded, then looked at Shorter expectantly. Shorter was staring at the ground with his arms crossed, but when the silence grew long enough, he glanced up.

   “Lovino,” he said, proudly, with his brows furrowed. He looked at Antonio, then quickly looked away. Antonio mouthed the name almost imperceptibly in return, which was strange, because Antonio almost never bothered to remember anything at all, especially not names.

   “4299,” said taller, _Feliciano,_ “We’ll see you around.” He waved, and turned, and headed for the water. Shorter looked at him, looked one last time at Antonio, turned and followed with his arms still crossed.

    Antonio and Francis and Gilbert watched the boys climb down the rocks and into the water with no hesitation. Gilbert raised his wet arms again. “See, it's really not so bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> my feral fucking boyfriend took one look at the title for this fic and said it sounded like that one tumblr post about fics having titles like We Have Not Touched The Stars (Nor Are We Forgiven) and then being tagged as anal fisting or whateva as if he doesn't let all his fics schtew in docs under titles like "fuk," "buhbuh brrugHuuhh??" and "Oh man it's party time." who even thinks of a title when they write something, huh? if you do that you probably put sugar in your coffee or something don't @ me


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